Phoenix Song
by AmazinglyMe
Summary: There was a bird of fire, huge and powerful and terrible. Then, the fire was me. Jean's impressions as she rises to become Phoenix after Alkali Lake. Phoenix idea taken from the comics. ONESHOT.


_A/N: Jean's thoughts, first after the incident at Alkali Lake, and then as the Phoenix entity is taking her over. I borrowed the "Phoenix" idea from the comic books. Oh, and the thing at the beginning, that's the poem that was kind of my... prewrite? I don't know. Erm, I hardly ever attempt poetry, and it wasn't actually supposed to be a poem, but this is how it is now, so... yeah. No idea what it is really, but it goes with the first part of this oneshot so I put it in. I don't know about that part especially, but let me know what you thought of it. (cringe)  
_

_Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men. I do not own Phoenix. I do not own Marvel. I don't own a single thing you recognize. Thanks for you time, please don't sue me. The end._

It's black.

No lighting, no guidance, no stars.

I could be anywhere, but I think I am nowhere.

Nowhere at all.

Ther might be something.

Something past all this, far beyond what I see.

There are flames that sear though me and I am nothing.

Nothing at all.

A vague memory

Of something that was

Something that was and might be again, but it isn't

Not at all

Faces

And a thousand half remembrances

A struggle to become someone and I fight and then --!

Something

**I**

I remember the power.

The sudden knowledge that I could save them, a flash of realization however brief.

I remember standing alone, and feeling a surge, an image, an amazement, the ability to, for an instant, be a force of nature.

I don't remember the actual act. I'm sure I looked like some kind of great martyr, willing to make such a sacrifice, but really it seemed like the only choice open to me. I had to save them. I know what I did, but in such a… vague way. It's like being told: "You did this" and accepting it because you don't remember a thing.

After that, I remember black.

Enveloping, complete, unbroken, starless black.

I remember - slowly - awareness. Creeping, and uncertain, but awareness.

I remember sight, and I regained it. I see a cloudy gray sky, dark waters, a distant shore. Pine trees, covered in snow. I am awed by **being** again.

I remember a face, it swims into my vision.

The face is tight, jaw set. The eyes are covered with sunglasses, dark ones.

In a flash, I know I have to find that face.

I remember that immediately after that there was no face. There was a bird of fire, huge and powerful and terrible. The face was consumed by the fire.

Then, the fire was me.

**II**

I remember these things in moments when the flames that are me now recede. When the fire leaves me an occasional moment of control, of thought that is my own. Mostly now I take a backseat to this entity that is not me, and yet is doing its best to become me. These flames.

My thoughts are reduced to commands from this entity. Fly. Rest. Eat. I dread the day when the command comes.

Kill.

It will come. It may even ask me to kill the face.

I don't remember the name of the face, though sometimes it is near the surface. It is keeping me connected to the real world, the world not tinted by flame. Barely, but it is there.

That is why the order will make its way to me, to kill that face.

I will lift my arm, helpless to protest. I will scream silently (I will not be allowed to scream out loud). I will allow a burst of pure star fire to rocket down my arm, feel the burning, searing power course through my veins, and this other entity will force me to welcome it.

I mourn for the nameless face already, and for myself.

I have been lost in flame.

**III**

Sometimes, I remember bits and pieces. No images save the face (it's sacred to me, for all I know it will soon be lost to me forever). More like impressions. The vague imprints of images, of ideas that the entity has deemed I must forget.

I cannot bring myself to hate the entity, because in the moments it briefly loses it's grip on me, I cannot help but wonder - what if it thinks it is doing the right thing? What it it's concept of right and wrong are entirely different from mine? What if I'm like a plaything to it, or even a poor little helpless doll. What if it thinks it is helping me?

There can be no denying that it gives me power beyond imagining, a terrible power. Perhaps it thinks it is doing a great good, a tremendous act of charity.

Who knows?

Slowly, my sense of who I am (was) is diminishing, slowly, I lose what I once was. Vague impressions fade into dreamlike memories, and those will fade into nothing. I cannot work up any emotion over this frightening end of me (whoever I am). I cannot work up any resistance, or any tears. I can no longer even cry for the face (whoever he was), though I still remember it, blankly, in the entity's weakest moments.

Soon, I know all will be forgotten.

I do not _feel_ things anymore, I merely know. The senses I rejoiced in regaining have left me again - I presume it is being used by this entity that is every day, more and more me. I am losing a fight I never began.

But I can't seem to care.

_A/N: I know… it's so uplifting :P Anyway, please tell me what you thought of it._


End file.
